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Didn't I tell you
That my garden was not to be played in?
That there is a sanction of land fenced-in
Only for me?

Don't play innocent,
I know you jumped the fence;
You tore up the flowers I had planted
In that beautiful garden, mine.

Don't act like you didn't know
That the white pickets were
To keep out children
Like yourself.

I'll never forgive you,
Even though the wind in the grass whispered your name.
Rows of poppies beckoning for you,
Claire.
I jump and curse at the sound of my name
Because when I was younger it was beaten into my skinny bones.

My first name became the sound of my father's fist on a wooden door,
My middle name the sound of papers crackling in a fire,
My last name the regrets of generations of men.

What's in a name
Until it has rolled off your tongue
Like the rustle of leaves in the brisk wind?
to          
                fro
left            
              right

joy        
              grief
dark            
            light

laugh            
             cry
sync            
              fight

hale              
               sick
bloom                    
                 blight

to          
              fro
left                
               right

these                
                     are called
the tracks                    
               of life
593

I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl—
I read that Foreign Lady—
The Dark—felt beautiful—

And whether it was noon at night—
Or only Heaven—at Noon—
For very Lunacy of Light
I had not power to tell—

The Bees—became as Butterflies—
The Butterflies—as Swans—
Approached—and spurned the narrow Grass—
And just the meanest Tunes

That Nature murmured to herself
To keep herself in Cheer—
I took for Giants—practising
Titanic Opera—

The Days—to Mighty Metres stept—
The Homeliest—adorned
As if unto a Jubilee
’Twere suddenly confirmed—

I could not have defined the change—
Conversion of the Mind
Like Sanctifying in the Soul—
Is witnessed—not explained—

’Twas a Divine Insanity—
The Danger to be Sane
Should I again experience—
’Tis Antidote to turn—

To Tomes of solid Witchcraft—
Magicians be asleep—
But Magic—hath an Element
Like Deity—to keep—
I shattered today.

Shards of love
And splashes of blood
Scattered to the tips of
My fingers
And
Toes.

We were in Starbucks
And I drank coffee
And you didn't
And seven months of
Surprise kisses
And
24/7 text messages
Ended abruptly
Like a cliff.

The funny thing is,
I broke up with you.
It was still me
Who spent the last hour
Listening to our song
And bleeding emotion
Riding on tears
Into the sock monkey
That I named after you
Because I loved the middle name
Ryan.

You were over it,
And I was not.
You showed up
With the bite of coffee
Crawling up your nose
Expecting to
Break
Up
With
Me.

I'm not exactly happy that we think alike anymore.
Seven months and two days. We had a good run. I still love you, Wade Ryan. I still do.
He came to my house
Wearing his dark jacket and
Cold fingers
With no prior notice.

The doorbell echoed at
Nine oh six
And my mom said she'd get it.

I was watching Netflix
And shoveling semi-melty
Ice cream into my mouth.

He said hi to my mom
And he rushed up the stairs
Into my laundry-flooded bedroom

He wrapped his arms around me
So tight that I wasn't keen to let go.

He smelled like bitter outside
And broken trees
And choking regret.

I smelled like
Fake roses
And ***** pajamas
That were freshly cried into.

My shirt sleeves were wet.

When he kissed me,
I tasted like
The aftermath of
Black cherries
And sad music.

He tasted like love.
Needless to say, we're on HIATUS until further notice.
and even though some nights
p a i n shot through your
lungs as you tried to remain
living on this earth for
a
n
  g
    e
      l
       s
you helped keep afloat for so long
time ticking backwards only to
reveal bombs setting off

every night was a battle

but you were a survivor
even when there was no hope
and even if there is no more getting better, Aunt Annie, you are a brave soldier. I love you.
there is a certain amount of

a n g e r

bound in a persons

poorly wired heart

under layers of thin plastic skin

in fear of ripping off band-aids

to find they took more than

what they bargained for
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